Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

'Not me,' said the vendor.

'They've even got a picture of the two of them together, so we know who it is that's secretly the same person.'

'Yup,' said the vendor. 'Pretty clever disguise, innit?'

'And I'm secretly sixty-five years old.'

'You don't look half that,' the vendor said amiably.

'And I'm betrothed to Hermione Granger, and Bellatrix Black, and Luna Lovegood, and oh yes, Draco Malfoy too...'

'Goin' ter be one interesting wedding,' said the vendor.

Harry looked up from the newspaper, and said in a pleasant voice, 'You know, I heard at first that Luna Lovegood was insane, and I wondered if she really was, or if she was just making stuff up and giggling to herself the whole time. Then when I read my second Quibbler headline, I decided that she couldn't be insane, I mean, it can't be easy to make this stuff up, you couldn't do it by accident. And now do you know what I think? I think she must be mad after all. When ordinary people try to make stuff up, it doesn't come out like this. Something's got to go really wrong with the inside of your head before this is what comes out when you start making stuff up!'

The vendor stared at Harry.

'Seriously,' said Harry. 'Who reads this stuff?'

'You,' said the vendor.

Harry wandered off to read his newspaper.

He didn't sit at the same nearby table he'd sat down at with Draco, the first time he'd prepared to board this train. That seemed like tempting history to repeat itself.

It wasn't just that his first week at Hogwarts had been, judging by the Quibbler, fifty-four years long. It was that, in Harry's humble opinion, his life did not need any new threads of complexity.

So Harry found a small iron chair somewhere else, distant from the main crowd and the occasional muffled cracks of parents Apparating in with their children, and sat down and read the Quibbler to see if it contained any suppressed news.

And besides the obvious craziness (heaven help them all if any of that was real) there was a good deal of snide romantic gossip; but nothing that would really be all that important if it was true.

Harry was just reading about the Ministry's proposed marriage law, to ban all marriages, when -

'Harry Potter,' said a silken voice that sent a shock of adrenaline jolting through Harry's blood.

Harry looked up.

'Lucius Malfoy,' Harry said, his voice weary. Next time he was going to do the smart thing, and wait outside in the Muggle part of King's Cross until 10:55am.

Lucius inclined his head courteously, sending his long white hair drifting over his shoulders. The man was still carrying that same cane, lacquered in black with a silver snake's head for its handle; and something about his grip silently said this is a weapon of deadly power, not I am feeble and leaning on this. His face was expressionless.

Two men flanked him, their eyes continuously scanning, their wands already gripped low in their hands. The two of them moved like a single organism with four legs and four arms, the senior Crabbe-and-Goyle, and Harry thought he could guess which was which, but then it didn't really matter. They were merely Lucius's appendages, as certainly as if they'd been the two rightmost toes on his left foot.

'I apologize for disturbing you, Mr. Potter,' said the smooth, silken voice. 'But you have answered none of my owls; and this, I thought, might be my only opportunity to meet you.'

'I have received none of your owls,' Harry said calmly. 'Dumbledore intercepted them, I presume. But I would not have answered them if I had, except through Draco. For me to deal with you directly, without Draco's knowledge, would trespass on our friendship.'

Please go away, please go away...

The grey eyes glittered at him. 'Is that your pose, then...' said the senior Malfoy. 'Well. I shall play along a little. What was your purpose in maneuvering your good friend, my son, into a public alliance with that girl?'

'Oh,' Harry said lightly, 'that's obvious, right? Draco's working with Granger will make him realize that Muggleborns are human after all. Bwa. Ha. Ha.'

A thin trace of a smile moved over Lucius's lips. 'Yes, that does sound like one of Dumbledore's plans. Which it is not.'

'Indeed,' said Harry. 'It is part of my game with Draco, and no work of Dumbledore's, and that is all I will say.'

'Let us dispense with games,' said the senior Malfoy, the grey eyes suddenly hardening. 'If my suspicions are true, you would hardly do Dumbledore's bidding in any case, Mr. Potter.'

There was a slight pause.

'So you know,' Harry said, his voice cold. 'Tell me. At which point, exactly, did you realize?'

'When I read your response to Professor Quirrell's little speech,' said the white-haired man, and chuckled grimly. 'I was puzzled, at first, for it seemed not in your own interest; it took me days to understand whose interest was being served, and then it all finally became clear. And it is also obvious that you are weak, in some ways if not others.'